Ultimate Gotham Girls #1

Late night. Gotham City. For most people, not the very best of combinations. But Poison Ivy never worried. The air was crisp that night, and a soft breeze blew it playfully around her mane of red hair. The same wind whispered through the scrawny, well-trimmed trees planted at unnaturally even intervals along the deserted street. From where Ivy stood on the sidewalk, it sounded as if they were whispering to each other, laughing at their own little secrets.

The thought brought a smile to her poison-red lips.

At this hour, on these streets, hardly anyone ever passed by. No one lived in the few buildings that dotted the street. Only the occasional lost car would fly by, the driver knowing instinctively not to stick around for too long. Alley cats and stray dogs occasionally darted across the pavement, seeking their shelter away from the bustle of Gotham’s more inhabited streets. Tonight, the only noise was the wind against the trees, and the soft clicking of Ivy’s heels on the sidewalk.

And then there was something else.

Ivy’s porcelain skin wrinkled over her brow. There was never anyone in this part of the city. The only thing here was Arkham Asylum. And no one bothered to visit the unfortunate souls that lived there. She only passed by on her stroll to have a good laugh for herself; a proverbial middle finger to the building that she had evaded. The one time that Ivy had been caught in a crime, she’d been in Arkham no more than a day before an excellent, well-paid and unscrupulous lawyer was able to get her case thrown out on a technicality.

But now there was someone nearby. Ivy knew it. A rushed, excited breathing was coming from near the main gate to Arkham. Ivy was amazed that she could hear it from as far away as she was. But her amazement gave way quickly to annoyance.

With an irritated huff, Ivy stalked around the bend of the street to where she could see whoever it was intruding on her solitude. She stopped in her tracks, shaking her head and blinking several times when she saw the girl.

She was decked out in the strangest outfit that Ivy had ever seen anyone wear outside of a circus ring. Red and black fabric alternated on what looked like a jumpsuit of some kind, decorated with diamonds of the same colors on the sleeves and legs. There were white frills around the end of the sleeves and around the girl’s neck, making her look something like the Fashion-Conscious Jester from Hell. She wasn’t actually doing much of anything. She just stood at the gate, looking up at the dark and imposing building on the hill, pigtails drooping off the top of her head. With a sigh, the little blonde leaned heavier against the metal of the gate, muttering to herself too softly for Ivy to hear.

Ivy’s quick flash of anger dissipated at the strange sight. Walking more slowly, she stepped up closer to the girl—and she really was a girl; Ivy couldn’t imagine that she was much older than twenty.

“What on God’s green earth are you doing all the way out here?”

The girl made an odd sort of squeaking sound at Ivy’s voice, once it cut through her own muttering, and she jumped a good six inches straight into the air. “…comin’ in to get you, I swear I—Wah! Yeesh, don’t sneak up on a girl like that!”

“I asked you a question.”

“Wha, like this is your place?” The girl closed her eyes and stuck her nose into the air. “For your information, this is public property and I got just as much of a right to be here as you!”

“Can it, clown.” Ivy placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh, you noticed?” Blue eyes lighting up with happiness, the girl tugged at the white frill around her neck.

Ivy didn’t waste time answering. “No one hangs around Arkham for no good reason. Why are you standing out here?”

“Cause they won’t let me go in.” The girl’s very pigtails drooped with her expression. “I’ve been tryin’ for a week to get in, but they keep callin’ security on me.”

“Why the hell would you want to get in that place?” She asked, honestly baffled by the sincere disappointment and even longing in the other girl’s voice. “I’ve only known people who wanna get out.”

“I just gotta get in!” the girl insisted, stamping her foot in frustration. “I gotta meet him!”

“Meet who?”

“The Joker!”

“Excuse me?” Ivy nearly burst into a laugh, nearly shook her head and nearly shouted all at the same time.

“Wha, don’tcha know him?” The blonde asked with complete innocence, oblivious to the strangeness of her life’s goal.

“Are you insane?” Of course Ivy knew him, but she didn’t bother to go into details with the girl. Over just the short time he’d been around, Ivy had no love of the man, despite their mutual enemy. “You’ve been trying to get inside Arkham Asylum to meet The Joker?”

“Uh-huh.” The girl smiled, and then cocked her head to the side. “Say, I know you! You’re Poison Ivy, right?” Ivy was too amused and astounded to reply. “I’m Harley,” she continued, “Harley Quinzel.”

“Riiiight.” Nodding slowly, Ivy started to step away from the blonde. “Well look, it’s been great, but I’ve gotta go.”

“No, wait!” Reaching out with surprisingly quick reflexes, Harley grabbed the older girl’s arm. “You can help me!”

“Help you how?”

“Help me get in!” Harley’s already fast speech was speeding up in her excitement. “Maybe if I can’t go as a visitor, I can go as a criminal!”

Ivy stared down at Harley, speechless for a moment. “You poor, deluded thing,” she said finally, “what happened to you?”

Harley instantly dropped Ivy’s arm, and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Well, I started off tryin’ to be a psychologist. You know, work a little here, write a couplea best-sellers there. So I started workin’ up at Arkham. But then they made me take this test, you know, to see if I was all mentally healthy and stuff so that didn’t work out—but that’s not the story, anyway, so I get in there and they’re givin’ me this tour, and that’s when I first saw him!”

“You were a psychologist?”

“Hey, I passed with all Bs! And I’m tellin’ the story, no interruptin’!” Harley folded her arms across her chest, and continued. “When I was in school, I kept hearin’ about The Joker, all the things he was doing. I thought maybe he’d be a great subject to study, right? But I tell ya, one look at those eyes of his, and I was just a goner!”

“His hair is bright green.”

“Hey, looks don’t come in the way of love!”

“Love. Oh for God’s sake.” Ivy buried her face in one hand.

“But don’tcha see? I’ve been writin’ him letters ever since, but he hasn’t answered me yet. But if I do somethin’ really spectacular and get inside, then he’s bound to notice! And then we can break out together! I’ve already been studying how!”

“I take it this is your idea of romantic,” said Ivy dryly.

“Come on, Ivy, please?” Harley’s big blue eyes were pleading now. “I can help you out too, there’s gotta be something you wanna do! I can be like your sidekick, and you know I won’t rat on you, come on, won’t ya please?”

“Well...” Ivy looked down at the girl, wondering whether she should laugh or cry, or just hit her head against the wall. At first, she had been sure that she would leave Harley right where she was. But then... “There might be something you could do...”

“There it is.”

Harley skidded to a stop after Ivy on the dark city streets. The marble monolith was fairly well-lit on the outside, although all of the tall windows were dark. The huge stone pillars and steps in front gave it the look of a temple in the middle of the more modernized buildings surrounding it.

“Gotham City Museum of Art,” Harley read off of a plaque on the closest pillar. “What’re we doin’ here?”

“You wanted something flashy, didn’t you?” Rummaging quickly in a hidden pocket on her green dress, Ivy pulled out a museum flyer and passed it to Harley. “I did rather have my eye on this.”

“Ooh, shiny!”

“You bet it is.” Ivy took the pamphlet back to look at for herself. The glossy paper was creased several times from being folded and unfolded over and over again. It advertised a new exhibit, one that had only come to town the previous night. Ivy’s red lips curled into a smile at the picture of the featured piece of artwork—an exquisite golden sculpture of a bouquet of flowers, in various sizes and shapes, studded all over with gems of different colors. “Bella LaFleur’s new exhibit,” she explained. “Most of it sucks, but that sculpture would make a pretty addition to my little lair.”

“You got a lair?”

“I’m kidding,” Ivy chuckled at Harley’s enthusiasm. “It’s just a house like anyone else’s. Mine just happens to be on an old toxic waste dump.” She looked over at the other girl, resisting another laugh at her expression. “Keeps away the Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’ll tell you that much. They drop like flies before they hit the front door. There’s a lot of residual poison in the air,” she added with the trace of a smile.

“So how come you can—“

“Look, this isn’t the time,” said Ivy, and Harley shut her mouth mid-word. “I want the artwork, and you don’t mind being expendable. So let’s get on it.”

“Right!”

Renee dropped her concentration for half a second as she swung back toward the museum entrance, and narrowly avoided crashing into a tree. With a sharp gasp, she tried to straighten out her line, but only succeeded in swinging even more wildly. She crashed hard into the hard marble side of the building, and let go of the rope.

“Oof!” Standing as quickly as she could, Renee rubbed her shoulder and side where they had hit the wall. These days, it seemed that every new part of being Batgirl was her least favorite. Stake-outs, Batarangs, bruises.

At least there was always the fun of a good chase. And the way Renee was going, it would be quite a chase if she didn’t pick up her pace.

Cursing under her breath, Batgirl ran along the side of the museum at top speed. Whatever Ivy and the new girl were up to, Renee would never live it down if she let them get away.

Of course, there was still a very specific sort of a style that she had to use. Renee smiled to herself. Babs would never forgive her if she let that slip.

A quick throw of a grappling hook, and Renee swung up into a tree at the museum entrance.

When it really came down to it, Arkham Asylum wasn’t a terrible place to be, if you were insane. The civil rights crowd made sure that inmates weren’t mistreated, and various charitable organizations made themselves look good by funding the place. It wasn’t hard to get into, either—Harley only had to request a stay at Arkham to be deemed crazy enough to belong there.

Once she was in, it had taken her all of five minutes to find the secluded cell that housed the Joker. And as a low-security inmate, she hadn’t found it too difficult to slip away from the guards for a few moments.

“Well, well,” came the voice down the corridor as Harley slowly approached. “If it isn’t Gotham’s newest young troublemaker.”

Harley hesitated as she came closer to Joker’s cell, flustered by the thought of an actual conversation with him. She hurriedly straightened the orange jumpsuit that covered her slight frame.

“Step right up, don’t be shy!”

Giggling and nervously touching her pigtails, Harley took the last few steps up to the thick glass wall.

Standing up against the glass with his hands folded behind his back, the Joker looked as if he had been waiting for her to arrive. His chalk-white skin and disheveled, acid-green hair stood out against the standard-issue jumpsuit even more than they usually did. The twisted grin looked inviting, almost friendly to Harley’s rose-tinted gaze.

“Evenin’, Mister Joker, Sir.”

“Please, there’s no need to be so formal.” Joker’s calm demeanor was exactly the opposite of Harley’s frantic, excited movement. She continued to giggle with nerves as Joker leaned against the glass. She was standing a mere foot away from her idol. She could feel herself getting lightheaded every time he spoke. “Just Joker’s fine.”

“Okay, Just Joker.”

The clown’s laughter rung out across the hallway, and Harley’s heart skipped a beat. “Ahaha, clever. Not bad kiddo, not bad at all.”

“Thanks!” Growing a little more bold, Harley started to gush, “You don’t know how much it means to me to be talkin’ to you! I mean, I’m a huge fan, Mister Joker, really huge fan, and I’ve been dyin’ to meet you for just ages! I mean the whole reason I did the whole crime bit was to get in here and see you!”

Joker’s smile widened even more, and he leaned against the glass at a relaxed angle. “Well I’m glad to hear it, Harley! It is an honor to inspire the next generation.”

Harley couldn’t hold back a grin herself. “You called me Harley!”

“Why shouldn’t I? That’s what you like, isn’t it?” Raising his eyebrow, Joker reached behind him into the cell, and held up a pile of thick envelopes.

“Ah, my letters!” Harley gasped. “You got them! But you never wrote back.”

“I would have gotten around to it,” shrugged Joker. “But you, my girl, have a wonderful name.”

“Really?” Her voice was little more than a whisper, and she put her hands up against the glass. She was a mere few inches away from him, now.

“Harley Quinzel,” said Joker, putting a finger up to his pointed chin. “Chop off a few letters, and you get Harley Quinn—“

“Like Harlequin, like the clown!” she cut in loudly. “I know, people always used to call me that!”

“I tell ya, Harley old girl,” smiled Joker, putting his hand up against the glass where hers was resting, “It’s a name that brings a smile to my face.”

Whatever small voice in Harley’s mind had still been telling her not to get involved with Joker was utterly flattened. Her fingers tried to curl around the glass. She could almost feel the heat from his hand through the thick cell wall.

“Listen,” she said, dropping her voice to an excited whisper. “Before I got in here, I was studyin’ all the plans and the doors and stuff and I think I know how to get out—“

Joker chuckled, a strangely soft, dangerous sound. “I’ve known how to get out of here for months! It isn’t like it’s hard.”

“Oh...” said Harley, disappointed. “But then, why’re you still in?”

Joker straightened up and started to pace in front of the glass wall. “Oh, this place isn’t all that bad. Sure, orange isn’t my color, and the food stinks. But it’s free,” he paused, stopping again in front of Harley, “And the company just got a whole lot better.”

Harley laughed again, even as she felt the blush spreading across her face. “Does that mean you want me to come back? Cause, I mean, if I’m buggin’ you or anything I don’t wanna do that, and I just wanted to talk to you and—“

“Harley, my dear,” said the Joker, his twisted grin widening to bare teeth as bleached as his skin, “I think this might be the start of a beautiful relationship.”